


Parents and Guardians

by BookMonsterEliz



Series: Beacon Hills [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Chris and the Sheriff gossip, F/M, M/M, and Melissa McCall becomes the pack mom, and learns how to protect herself, as the pack is puzzled and amused, manly gossip!!!!, mixed in with some alchohol and guns, this is basically all about the parents, with the help of two handsome gents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:05:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookMonsterEliz/pseuds/BookMonsterEliz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris and the Sheriff bond over alcohol, guns, and training/falling in love with Melissa McCall. Read the tags, or better yet, just take a peek, the chapters are writing themselves small.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whiskey

Chris Argent savored the taste of the whiskey, mellow and warm, rolling it around his mouth, letting it slip down his throat, before taking another long sip from his almost empty glass. He leaned back in his chair with a content air as he regarded his host, John Stilinski. The Sheriff was already two gulps into his second glass.  
“I just wish I knew a way to get rid of him.” the other man sighed.  
Chris grinned, ferally, and John hastily shook his head.  
“No, nothing like that, Jesus, man.”   
“Oh, I know ways of scaring him off without hurting him, believe me.” Chris chuckled, visions of such plans dancing happily through his mind.   
“Do you really think he’ll pose a threat to the kids?” Chris asked soberly.   
“I don’t know. I don’t think he’d consciously hurt Scott but I know he won’t react well if he finds out his son is a werewolf.”   
“Let’s hope, and do our best, to make sure that doesn’t happen.”   
“He’s a good agent. He was always determined to get what he wanted, and it’s served him well, in his career at least. That’s why he left Melissa; he thought she was tying him down.”   
Both men frowned, faces darkening, at the impossible thought of Melissa McCall tying any man down. Chris spoke up as John picked up his glass.   
“So why is Agent McCall still here? What does he want now?” Chris asked.   
“Scott. He wants to make amends for being absent for so long.”  
“And I take it Scott isn’t biting.” A corner of his mouth twitched into a ghost of a smile.  
“No.” The Sheriff shook his head, thinking that Agent McCall was a fool for walking out on his wife and son.   
Chris sipped his drink quietly. The idea of walking out on family was a foreign concept to him. His sister and father had both done it, by betraying him and Allison out of their own twisted ideas of what was right. They were selfish though. There can’t be room in family for selfishness.   
“Speaking of Scott, Stiles mentioned yesterday that he and Alison are back together again, so I guess you’ll be seeing plenty of him.” John said, pouring more amber liquid into Chris’ almost empty glass.   
“Are you sure? Allison said something about going out with Isaac tonight. Bowling I think.”  
John shrugged. “Stiles said something about bowling today too, maybe it’s a group thing.”  
Grey eyes examined the contents of the crystal glass carefully, thoughts centered on a spunky teenage girl and not the amber liquor.   
“Kids. What can you do?” John offered.  
“I’ll drink to that.” Chris shook his head with a grin, and the sharp ring of glass meeting glass filled the small room before the men launched into the all absorbing topic of pistol specs.


	2. Beer

Sheriff Stilinski was the one to suggest the idea.   
“I was thinking of taking Melissa out to the shooting range.” John told Chris as the two sat in the Argent study, cleaning their weapons and sipping beer.   
“Sounds romantic.” Chris smiled though his words were dry.  
“No, not like that,” John protested, coloring despite himself, “ I just thought it might be a good idea for her to be able to protect herself, that’s all.”   
“Fair point. Scott and the pack can’t be expected to keep an eye on her all the time, and the two of us might not be able to coming running in an emergency if we get tied up.”   
“Not literally I hope.” John grinning despite the memories of the unhappy time in the dank cellar.   
“No.” Chris said, shaking his head ruefully.  
“So you think it’s a good idea?”   
“Sure. In the Argent family the women can use weapons just as well if not better than the men.” Chris shrugged.   
They worked silently for a few minutes as John processed this. Stiles had mentioned that the hunters worked on a more matriarchal scale. It might explain why Chris was able to put aside his worries for his daughter with such apparent ease. She was a peer, or outranked him, and could take care of herself. But then, Chris was rather calm and taciturn. Maybe it bothered him more than it appeared to.   
As he fingered the cool metal laid out in front of him, he thought of his wife. She hadn’t been one for guns. She didn’t mind his having them, not as a policeman or for hunting, but she’d wanted nothing to do with them herself. Whenever he pressed her about learning how to shoot she’d just tell him that she already had a weapon in the form of her sharp wit and intellect. God, she’d be so proud of Stiles.   
“So, when are you going to take her?” Chris calm words shattered his memory.   
“Not sure. I need to see if she’s interested first.”   
“I bet she will be.” Chris voice was encouraging.   
“I hope so. My wife wasn’t.”   
“I met my wife on the firing range. She out shot me,” Chris smiled sadly before shaking his head, banishing the memory, “Well, let me know if you need any help training her.”   
“Sure.” John nodded.  
After a few minutes of quiet cleaning he ventured a question. “So how are Argent women trained?”  
“Like the men, but better,” Chris grinned. “Both start out the same, kidnapped, tied up, and timed while they escape. Then basic weapons training, rifles, pistols, mainly bows. The women are taught about our history and given all of the knowledge we have on supernatural creatures. They sharpen their hunting skills and take on leadership positions. The men are taught how to track creatures, hone their weapons skills, and endure pain.”  
“I don’t think Melissa would appreciate a kidnapping. Or torture lessons.” John remarked.   
“No, I doubt she would. But if she wants to learn the firing range sounds like a great place to start.”   
“I’ll ask her.”  
“I’ll talk to Alison, and if Melisa wants to learn more than physical defense I could lend her some books.”   
“Even if Melisa doesn’t, I bet Stiles would. That boy cannot get enough information.” John shook his head fondly.   
“He’s his father’s son.” Chris’s voice was full of admiration.   
“Deaton has started teaching him, lending him books.”   
Chris frowned as he put away his cleaning kit.   
“Is he being trained as an apprentice? You know what Deaton is.”  
“No, no, he’s just learning about general things.”   
Chris’ relief was palpable.   
“Well, you should be proud of your son, John. He’s clever, resourceful, and loyal and has gotten these kids out of more than one mess.”  
“I am. He has his mind for a weapon, just like his mother.”


	3. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris comforts Allison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter wasn't really planned, it just sort of came to me. Up next will be the gun range date!

The scream jolted Chris awake. He was out of bed, weapon in hand, body kicking into motion before conscious thought had time to work its way through adrenaline swamped synapses. He didn’t pause before bursting into Allison’s room, pistol at the ready.  
He saw at once that Allison was the sole occupant of the moonlit room. Chirs clicked the gun’s safety to “on” as she thrashed in the sheets, crying out again. Weapon tucked safely in the band of his boxers, he gently shook her awake.  
“Allison, it’s ok. It’s just a dream. Wake up.” He crooned.  
“No! Please, no!” she choked, eyes slowly opening, tears falling freely. She shrank away from his outstretched hand.  
“It’s alright, you’re safe. You’re awake now, sweetie.” Chris gently patted her leg.  
His heart clenched at the sight of his daughter in pain. He wished he knew what to do. Cuts, bruises, broken limbs, those he knew how to deal with. Broken hearts? Not so much. Allison saved him from wondering when she hugged him tightly.  
“I’m awake?” she whispered fearfully.  
“Yes.”  
His answer was firm as he pulled her closer, tangling his fingers in her hair, rocking her as she cried into his shoulder. Unbidden, a soft French nursery rhyme flowed from his lips. 

 

_Au clair de la lune_  
Mon ami Pierrot  
Prête-moi ta plume  
Pour écrire un mot  
Ma chandelle est morte  
Je n'ai plus de feu  
Ouvre-moi ta porte  
Pour l'amour de Dieu. . . 

 

Slowly, her tears dried and her thin shoulders stopped shaking. Chris regarded her with careful grey eyes as she pulled away, holding out a tissue when she sniffed loudly. She took it thankfully, but her dark eyes seemed empty. He frowned, feeling frightened, lost, so out of his depth. What would Victoria do? Probably scold her out of it, or force her to face the dream. No, that wasn’t the right tact. What did his mother do when he had nightmares as a child? Hot chocolate.  
“Can I get you something to drink?”  
Allison nodded. Chris set a light kiss onto her forehead before heading to the kitchen, making a detour to his own room to put away his gun and slip on a tshirt. Unfortunately, there was only a half spoon of cocoa in the tin. He really needed a drink, preferably a strong one. He boiled water anyway, fishing out two mugs and placing a sachet of vanilla blackberry tea into each. He’d found the honey by the time the kettle screamed, and added a spoonful to each mug.  
When he returned, Allison’s room was empty, but his bedside lamp was on so he turned towards his room. He found her there, curled up under his blankets with a fistful of tissues.”  
“There wasn’t enough hot chocolate, so I made tea.” Chris said, handing her one of the mugs before setting the other down on his bedside table and climbing in besides her. Allison thanked him and took a grateful sip. Chris felt his heart ease a bit as she sipped more, snuggled up against his pillows, so obviously feeling safe.  
“Better now?” he asked.  
“Yeah.” she said, taking a few more sips before putting down the mug and snuggling close like she used to do as a child. Tears came to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks to be caught and brushed away by his gentle fingers.  
“Want to talk about it?” he softly asked.  
“I killed them. The entire pack,” Allison whispered into his chest, “And, and I liked it. Gerard was there, and Aunt Kate, cheering me on as I killed them all, one by one. First Derek, with my arrows. I threw Peter into a fire, and laughed. Oh god, I didn’t want to, but Kate was laughing and laughing and told me I had to.”  
“Shhhh… It’s alright, she’s gone now.” Chris murmured, stroking her hair, as his own eyes tearing up. Allison continued on in a rush of words.  
“No, it’s not alright. Because I didn’t stop there. I hurt Lydia, strangled her, just to hear her scream. And Stiles, I killed him too, with little throwing daggers, he ran, but I kept throwing them, and whenever I would run out Gerard would hand me more. And then I went after Isaac. I chained him in a freezer. He screamed and clawed to get out but I kept wrapping the chain around it, laughing. Scott tried to stop me, but I threw him off. He pleaded with me, but I refused to listen. I pushed him down, and sat on him, and cut his heart out. And then you were there, and I was about to attack you, but then I woke up.”  
With a sobbing gasp Allison was done, empty of all words, tears silently soaking her father’s shirt as he held her close.  
“It was just a dream, Allison. You would never do any of those things.”  
“But I could.” Her voice was defiant.  
“But you won’t, because you have a soft heart.” He stroked her hair, his own heart twisting in pain for his daughter.  
“I just feel so dark sometimes, so angry.”  
“We all do, sweetie. But I believe in you. You’ll make the right choices.”  
They held each other close for a while, lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Allison’s eyes closed, exhausted.  
“Thanks, dad.” she whispered before her breathing turned soft and even.  
Chris stayed awake for a long time, heart hurting over his daughter’s pain. He knew this wasn’t the only nightmare she’d had lately. This wasn’t like Allison; this was something more, something dark.  
About an hour after falling back asleep, Chris was woken again by the low, shrill whine of his alarm. With a groan, he smacked it off and rolled over. His eyes widened in surprise at finding brown hair spread out over the pillow next to him, but then he remembered Allison’s nightmare. Her dark eyes slowly opened, bleary and baggy.  
“What time is it?” she croaked.  
“Five thirty. You don’t have to go to school if you don’t want to, I’ll call the principal or write you a note. You should get more sleep.”  
“Ok.” Despite her words, she was rolling out of bed, but then she just ambled to the bathroom. A few minutes later he heard the door to her room shut. Then the Argent household was quiet again, shrouded in sleep.


End file.
